Touch
by Calie1
Summary: “Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.” Plato


Notes: I guess you could say I prompted myself. I had this scene stuck in my head of Chloe sitting on the sofa and Oliver sitting on the floor agains tit by her feet. This is what came of it.

* * *

"Hey."

Oliver turned his head at the sound of a familiar voice. "Hey."

"People don't usually ditch their own parties do they?" Chloe remarked as she walked across the carpet in his direction. "I almost didn't see you. I guess it's a good thing you're tall enough that I could spot that mess of blond hair anywhere." She stepped around the cream colored sofa and stopped when she could fully see him. He was sitting on the floor propped up against the armrest at the end of the sofa. One knee was bent, supporting the hand with which he held his drink. The blazer he wore earlier that night was gone and the first couple of buttons on his shirt undone. "Sitting in the dark?"

"I figure this way no one can find me." Oliver tilted his head back to face her and couldn't help but smirk. "Obviously I couldn't fool you."

"I like to think I'm smarter than your average girl. Want some company?" He shrugged and she took that as her okay to take a seat. For a second she considered which side of the loveseat to sit on. Ultimately she decided it would have been odd for her to leave an empty seat between them, so instead she opted for the cushion closest to him. She sunk into the firm foam and crossed her legs. "This is nice," she admitted as she turned her eyes in the direction of his own. The entire wall of his bedroom was glass, presenting a rather beautiful, panoramic view of the Metropolis night skyline. Turning away from the view Chloe looked back down to the man she had been searching for. "It's your birthday," Chloe leaned forward, resting an arm across her lap and the other over the arm of the sofa, "why are you hiding."

"Don't they say 'It's my party and I can cry if I want to'?" Oliver turned his head and glanced behind him. Her head was bent, looking down at him, wavy strands of blond hair hanging around her face.

"Your birthday was two days ago, so you should have done your crying then. And besides, you're too old to be crying. So tell me again why a billionaire playboy celebrating his birthday with a hundred of what I assume are his closest friends, is sitting here in his bedroom, drinking by himself, not even a beautiful woman to be found."

Oliver cocked an amused eyebrow. "Obviously you aren't smarter than the average girl."

"Really?" Chloe raised her eyebrows in wonder. "How so?"

"Well, I could count the people I consider close friends on just two hands, I'm not drinking by myself," he lifted his glass and clinked it against the wine glass that she held, "and there is a beautiful women sitting right next to me."

"Oh?" She leaned over the side of the sofa and made a show of peering at the other side of him. "Where is she? It's a shame you haven't introduced us." She waited for his smart ass response, but that wasn't what she got. Fingers slipped between her shoe and the bottom of her foot. She cried out in surprise, yanking her foot back and losing her shoe in the process. "You idiot," she laughed.

"I'm giving you a compliment and you shot it down." He reached for the other foot but she slapped his hand away. When she reached for her dropped shoe he grabbed it and tossed it across the room.

"Oliver!" She exclaimed in shock, trying not to laugh, but doing so miserably.

"You left me with little choice." He reached over her leg and grabbed her other shoe. It slipped easily enough off her foot and tossed it across the room, not caring if it landed near its mate.

Chloe sighed and scooted to the edge of the sofa to set her near empty wine glass on the table. "I guess I'm not going anywhere."

"That was the intention." Her legs brushed against his arm as she settled against the arm of the sofa. He glanced down at her legs to find them crossed at her thighs, turned into him slightly.

"So you never told me why you're hiding out. I'm assuming it wasn't to lure me in here and steal my new shoes. Which, might I add, I specifically bought to wear for _your_ birthday and now no one can see them and they're sitting in a dark corner." She felt a pinch on the back of her calf that crossed the other and gasped at the sharp pain, pulling her leg back sharply and slapping the top of his head.

"Okay, okay. Sorry." He wrapped his hand around the middle of her calf and pulled her leg back down.

"That hurt!" She exclaimed and slapped him again on the head.

"Ow!" He ducked his head away from her. "Okay!" Gently he rubbed his thumb over the area he had just pinched. She didn't say anything. Then she sighed softly and settled down, legs relaxing against him once more.

"And I guess I'm sorry for hitting you."

"I'm more worried about the hair."

Chloe sighed in annoyance and slid her fingers into his hair, attempting to fix whatever it was he believed she had mussed up. "It's messy regardless Oliver." He dropped his head back against the arm of the sofa. "So, what gives?"

She was persistent, of that he was sure. "I was bored," he admitted. Nimble fingers continued to move through his hair, nails dragging gently over his scalp. Slowly, his eyes slid closed and he relaxed in her touch.

"I can't imagine my company is very exciting." At least that's what she tried to tell herself when his fingers began to move up and down her calf, caressing her skin

"Your company is enough for me." He expected her to say something, but she remained quiet, combing her fingers through his hair.

She turned onto her hip slightly and rested her head on the arm of the chair again. Her crossed legs were pressed against him and she would have pulled them away if it wasn't for him still gently caressing the one that hung over his shoulder. "Ollie?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you sure everything is okay?" His head turned, looking up at her. "It's your birthday, I just want you to be happy."

"I'm fine." She looked down at him knowingly, waiting for what she believed would be the real truth. "I'm serious. Besides, I got your shoes off," he smirked, "it's only a matter of time before I get the rest of it off." Her mouth fell open and he gripped her leg tightly as she tried to kick him. "Sorry, sorry."

She shook her head and sighed, determined to ignore the flutter deep in her stomach at his words. "Flirting isn't going to work on me, Queen." She yawned softly and rolled onto her hip so that she was practically laying on her side now. She tried not to focus on the fact that she was still idly playing with his hair and her leg draped over his shoulder.

"Don't I know it." He turned his face into her leg and pressed a gentle kiss to her knee. She didn't pull away, even though his actions couldn't be construed as anything friendly.

"Scoot over." She slid her hand from his hair and pressed it against the side of his face, urging him to move left.

Her voice was soft and something about it made his stomach clench. He tried to ignore the feeling and instead slid along the sofa until he was sitting centered in front of her body.

"Someone is going to come looking for you." Chloe inquired softly as he settled his head back against the other leg that she had pulled up onto the sofa in front of her stomach.

He shrugged. "Hopefully not. Should have locked the door." Her hands were sliding through his hair again.

"Do you want me to?" She moved to stand, but his hand tightened around her leg.

"Leave it." The last thing he wanted was for her to move. They'd found themselves in their current position by accident, but he wasn't about to let anything interrupt it. It was rare that they ever had a normal, quiet moment. This was one of them.

"You could sit on the sofa, Ollie." She ran her fingers down the side of his head and behind his ear before trailing them back up again.

He turned his head to the right, regarding her silently for a moment. Her head was still leaning on the arm of the sofa, pillowed by one arm. Her normally wide green eyes were slightly hooded, making it hard for him to even make out the green in them. He'd thought about it, when he first grabbed her leg. He'd played it out in his head, turning around and kneeling in front of her, between her legs. Bringing her head down to his and kissing her and then, without parting lips, slowly standing up and pushing her back against the sofa with his body. But he didn't. "We both know that probably wouldn't be a good idea." She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Is that what you want?"

"I don't know what I want," she admitted truthfully for the first time. On every other occasion they had succeeded in ignoring the subtle flirting. Some times were harder than others, and now, sitting in his room, staring out over the night sky and touching each other in ways they shouldn't have, was one of those times. As usual he didn't push. There seemed to always be an open invitation though. She thought about sliding down the couch, resting her head on the seat cushion near his own, burying her face into his neck, but it would have put them too close.

He didn't say anything else on that subject, nor any other. The unanswered question seemed to hang in the air between them making any other conversation pointless. He didn't mind that much, not when he still at least had the physical contact. They could at least allow themselves one moment away from the rest of the world, pretending like there weren't situations and people weighing them down or holding them back.

* * *

It was hours later when he woke to a crick in his neck, wincing as he straitened it. Warm fingers barely rested against his neck and at some point she'd pulled her leg onto the sofa. He grimaced as he moved his head form side to side, working the muscles out and hearing a satisfied crack. He pushed up off the floor quietly, doing his best not to wake her, even if that was exactly what he should have done. It was when he was standing next to her, looking down at her sleeping figure that he found himself at a crossroads. It was after three, and any guests were long gone. He wasn't quite sure what Lois or Clark made of Chloe's disappearance, but he didn't particularly care. He wasn't fond of sending her home alone so late at night, but it wasn't just her safety that he was considering. She was there with him, and he didn't want her to leave.

He bent over at his waist, propping one hand on the arm of the sofa near her head and the other on the back of it. He couldn't help but frown as he sighed. Lowering his head he kept his eyes on hers, waiting for any sign of movement. It was his intention just to press a kiss to her forehead. But as he did so he moved lower, gently pressing the palm of his hand to her face and kissing her cheek. She sighed softly into his ear making him close his eyes and try to regain some composure. It wasn't enough to stop him from bending his neck just slightly and pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. It was by luck that her eyes didn't open until he pulled away.

The unfamiliar surroundings was the first thing she was aware of as she opened her eyes. Then it was his face in the darkness, the lights of the city shining on his face. He smiled gently and she couldn't help but smile back.

The tired smile almost undid him. Because his bed was only a few feet away and he could have imagined that look on her face, blonde hair framing her face on his pillow. "Hello sleeping beauty."

"What time is it?" Through the glass wall there was no evidence of the sun, it wasn't very late, she knew that much. A chill ran through her though, making her suspect it was late enough if the temperature had dropped.

He raised a hand and pushed a lock of her hair aside. "About three." Her eyes became wide at his revelation.

"Three?" She hadn't realized, nor had she cared, when she was dozing off with her hand in his hair. "I've gotta go." As she pushed herself up he moved away from her and stood. Once on her own two feet she looked around in the darkness for her shoes. His hand gripped at her wrist though, stopping her from getting much further in her search. There was something on his mind, or at least she assumed there was from the seriousness on his face. "What?"

"It's late. Just stay." She opened her mouth, but he quickly shook his head. "I didn't wake you to send you home."

Lord how she wanted to. It didn't matter if she would have woken with a sore neck, she would have laid on that sofa all night next to him. But now.... "I know, but-"

"There were no excuses earlier." He pointed out to her. She quickly shut her mouth and frowned. He could still see the uncertainty in her eyes though, so he opted for a different tactic. "Scared?"

She opened her mouth to respond then frowned when she thought better of it. "You are not tricking me by calling me a chicken."

"Are you?"

His brow raised expectantly and there was no missing the teasing smirk on his face. "No." Even though she knew that was farthest from the truth.

"Then stay," he said, as if it was the simplest answer.

"Why? Just to prove a point?"

"No. Because I'd much rather have you sleeping in my bed with me than going home to your own." There, he said it. No tip toeing around the obvious, or softening the blow. For once one of them was totally honest.

"I thought we agreed that wasn't a good idea," she whispered softly, but was already feeling her will give way under his admission.

"We didn't. I never did." Oliver shook his head. "It was always you. I've always been perfectly fine with more." This time he didn't ask.

His hand slid from her wrist, and at first she feared he was pulling away, but then he grabbed her hand in his and gave a gentle tug, pulling her behind him. He stopped just briefly at a table and grabbed what appeared to be a remote. Seconds later there was a faint humming. It took her only moments to realize that it was the blinds lowering from the ceiling, covering the large expanse of windows and shielding them from the outside world. When he pulled her hand again, pulling her behind him towards his bed, she didn't stop him.


End file.
